Dance, Baby
by Corazie
Summary: All Claudine has ever wanted to do is dance. And she'll do whatever it takes, especially after she glances herself in the mirror at Britannia. Who can save her?


All Claudine has ever wanted to do is **Dance, Baby**.

I looked at my thighs in the mirror as I danced and I felt my soul split from my body. This wasn't me. I wasn't a lump of lard, fat dancing on the balls of small feet. I dropped from my toes, lowered my arms and walked to the side of the room, picking up my bag and walking out. I walked down the corridor towards the changing rooms, all the while conscious of my fat things moving with some mordid rhythm to the pace my feet were setting, dancing a dance of their own.

For the first time in my life my body was sickening to me. And if it was suddenly sickening to me, and I had been living with it for seventeen years, what did other people think of it? The fat thighs, the belly that stuck out, the mounds on my chest... I turned in to the changing room, threw my bag in to the corner and curled up, tears already falling from my eyes I grabbed my bag and pulled the zip open. My clothes. I needed to hide myself. My jeans were tight as I eased them up my legs and I sobbed harder. My clothes on, I walked to the mirror and checked my make-up. My eyes were a bit puffy, but it was summer and I had hay-fever anyway. My make-up was still as fresh as it could be, it looked like I had been dancing for a while. I heard voices and foot steps nearing the changing room doors. I put some drops in my eyes and straightened up.

"Oh, Claudine. You bailed on us during dance?" It was Lauren, doing that idiotic thing where she seems to snarl or sneer or whatever. Makes her look like a dog, but who am I to say that?

"No," I replied. "I was just feeling a bit unwell, you know? Too much fun last night, yeah?" I had that smile on my face, the one that helps me look happy all the time, pleased with myself. I was anything but pleased with myself, but some masks are permanent to the preying eyes of others. "I'm just gonna go back to the flat, have a rest. Tell Carol I have cramp, yeah?" I raised my eyebrows in that hopeful way that no one can really resist.

I turned from Lauren and skipped away, before I felt my thighs moving and stopped, shoving the door out of my way, angry with myself and my fat thighs. I stalked through the corridors towards the main entrance and hailed a taxi. I was going home to think about things, to sort myself out. To sort my body out. Things had to change. All I want to do is dance, baby.

* * *

I'd heard of things to help you get rid of the fat many times. I smoke anyway, bad yeah I know, so maybe it's time to up the nicotine... I've heard it stops you feeling hungry. Less food would work, wouldn't it? Just for a while, until the fat is gone and then everything would go back to normal. Just, you know, not the fat thighs. No, I won't do that. I'm trying to quit smoking, it'd just be stupid. I'll detox.

It'll be easy, it says so in the book and, you know, the book can't be wrong, yeah? One day on water only, the next add fruit juices and so on until you're eating really healthy with fruit and vegetables and fish and nut. Only maybe i won't do the nuts, I'm not too keen on them, and those ballet girls swear against them anyway, as they swear against chocolate a bread and pasta... And they're so slim and perfect, so they can't be going wrong with what they're eating. And I'll go to the gym more, every bit of free time I can snatch I'll spend there. Especially lunch as I won't be eating much then, will I? And the gym will be pretty empty, too.

Seeing as I'm at the flat and no one's back yet, or will be for a few hours at least, I'll get started now. I'll do some leg stretches and then put on 4Music and dance for a bit. And I'll get the mirror so that if I get tired I'll know why I'm doing it. I'm doing it to get thin. I'm doing it to DANCE BABY, because dancing is my life. It's my everything. I'm good at singing, but that's just a back up, dancing is my life. I need to be perfect if anyone's going to accept me as a dancer. And I need to get a job. If I go to Britannia all day and get an evenning job dancing, then not only will I get better, but I'll get thinner, more toned. I'll look amazing! I just need to get rid of a few pounds...

How heavy am I? I'd never thought of that before. I found the scales and stepped on, my eyes closed. I peeped through my eye lids and I almost screamed. One hundred and twenty-five pounds! Ooh my god. If they ever weighed me at Britannia, I'd be out. I need to get down to 115. That's only ten pounds, that'll do. A lot of the girls weigh that... Well, a lot of the girls weigh less.


End file.
